landed in that special place behind the schoolhouse.......a place, within a place......a place of fear, mystery, hidden from most, open to some.........a place of musky warmth, sweet envelopment and immersion, from whence, emanates a flavor, admittedly, and acquired taste, enriched through experience, feared by the uninitiated,

a place, truly, where once entered, and the ripe fruit once tasted, the bewildered seeker becomes the neophyte...........and, upon repeated entrance, becomes..........

*frog notes repeating pattern, is this a dream?*
*frog also notes, he's not sure if he's a frog, because, he's also dreamt of being a frog, when, he's really............*

really, really confused and powerfully thirsty. He hops back to the bar and orders up a tall glass of a magical elixir served with twinkling glowing ice cubes. Only in this dusty, booby, dark bar can such a cocktail be found. Rapidly downing the beverage he slams the glass down on the counter and shouts...

I didn`t mean a word of it.
I was speaking off the top of my head, delerious with foggy memories of my adventures in the dust, travelling wherever my whims led me, glowing ice cubes , slippery buttocks and then suddenly.... I realise....I am swimming in a pond!...and...
.... I`m speaking in first person!
My head spins as reality tries to steal me away from...

assorted e-playans. Each in turn frolicked with the little bugger until late one woozy night, someone had the idea to kiss the frog and see what happened. So a brave soul stepped forward, grabbed Greenie and...

...futile. He then proceeded to wrap his carbonadium tendrils around Ms. Oggelmeyer and suck all of the burner aura outta her. Once she was dead and all her aura had been sucked, he began to secrete bodily pheromones deadly to anyone in his immediate vicinity....

...except for tiny Timmy the dazzlingly dusty frog. So the brave froggy came out of hiding in the desert returned to his amphibious state and exclaimed "LICK ME, I`M FULL OF SUPRISES!!!".
The titanic red soul sucking monstrosity leaned over the tiny sparkling desert denison and...

the missing 5th of the group, the point of the pentagon, as it were........
the famous, androgynous Teletubby, named "Pat"...........and, he was not sure if he should treat Pat as an ice cream cone or popsicle..........until.........

... standing on his hind legs crowing at the moon loud as hell.
"Damn chicken! Shut up or I'm gonna ring yo damn neck."
So Pat, the hung-like-a-bull frog, settled down. All he really wanted was a drink - preferably a gin cocktail, easy on the vermouth and vegetables. sip. ahh. But the bitches wouldn't let him alone. Always callin, settin on his lap, grindin on his legs and shit. C'mon! Can't a fella relax a bit? Clear his mind, take a few deep breaths (thanks to Neti pot)
innnnn ,
oouuttttt.
innn

HeH HMM. Attention! Lend me your tympanums! Sorry to interrupt, but can we pause here for a moment? !? Great. I'd like to give a big round of applause to the frog.. The desert frog ... WOOOHOO! God love him. Amphibian, surviving in the burning drought.
And, long as we're getting back to nature, let's hear it for the bugs out there too! Woo hoo! ... little dusty boogers running in and out your nose (DAMN Neti, giving me freaky dreams!). And Finally, let's hear it for the band!!! WOoOOooOH HoooOOooo!

Where was I? Ah yes, floozy perched on his drumstick, getting late, the old bird tosses back the rest of his drink, considers pouring himself a halfy ... one for the toad,... thinks better of it and just heads to bed to join his sleeping mistress, tromboning one just outside the bedroom door ...

At which point his mistress bolted upright in bed, grabbing her trusty .45 Magnum on the nightstand next to her, and in her alcohol induced haze, aims at the doorway and cracks off a shot, not killing the wayward brass player, but instead shooting off his...

Excuse me Ma'am, your going to feel a small prick._______________________________________

just as he fell, for, not only had he been shot in the ear, his leg had been pierced as well..........for, "Otto Fellatio", as said wing man was known on the streets, was also a yoga master........and lonely.............
so, the brass player, being quick witted as any brass player is want to me, immediately pulled out his.......

back-up mini brass (a small polished harmonica) and laid breath hard into the reed. Alas, the harmonica was a cleverly disguised dart gun, with an array of differentily devised darts for every situation. In the melee & confusion, he blew on the low-end which flung small fletchets chemically dip-tipped in...

COFFEE CAMP: "The Social Hub of the Uncivilized World"
"Remember- Drink coffee...it's for your own good"
"DRINK IT!"
"...it's only just begun."
"To Percolate & Serve."

and, the poor, poor doughboy, as he scampered to and fro, hither and yon, he stumbled into a seedy theater, a theater of the mind, one, where, on this night, the doughboy would be treated, to, a never ending loop.
And, lo and behold, at 1:01 into the loop, his worst nightmare, the appearance that makes the world shudder:
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoTDK95Ua94&feature=related[/youtube]

after watching this for several sessions,
the doughboy, ran screaming into the street..................